It was a small shop. It carried the oddities of the world. The things that odd people needed for their potions and lotions and curative powders. It was dark, no matter how many lights he lit. The windows were covered with old dust and cobwebs. Shelves lined every wall, and every shelf was lined with vials and bottles and boxes of ingredients needed for many an unusual concoction or elixir. It was not a lucrative shop. But it was all he had. All Harold and his mother had, inherited from his father when he died years ago. Harold tended the shop while his mother sat in the back room reading her romance novels. She also slept there. She couldn't make it up the stairs to the bedrooms upstairs. That's what she told Harold. He had fitted it with all her needs. It had its own bathroom.

He obtained his powders and herbs and liquids from people here in town, who gathered some from the woodlands surrounding the city, and from sellers abroad. His sources were especially from shamans and herbalists in the third world, but also China and India, and obscure persons delving deep in the dark forests of the Old World.

Not a lot of people came in anymore. Several Wiccan covens found uses for his products. Some youngsters playing Satanic games would come in and ask for this or that ingredient for a spell they had found online. And there were several practitioners of Santería in the city. Also, traditional medical practitioners from the orient came in sometimes, when they ran out of their own supplies. They used his products to concoct their medicines. It was a large city and his shop was located in a narrow street just a few blocks from the central business district. It was hard to find, but it did manage to make enough money for his and his mother's simple needs.

Harold was 32 years old. His father had died when he was only 16 and he had left school to help his mother. His formal education was meagre, but he was well read from the library of books the shop also sold, mostly having to do with the occult and the strange. But his father had collected many volumes of other subjects, so Harold never lacked for reading material, from here in the shop, and from the library, when he was not catering to his mother's needs. She had become an invalid after her husband died. She claimed it was the stress. She never told Harold what her doctors said, but she always seemed to be feeling poorly, and Harold was her only caregiver.

He had inherited his good looks from his father, who gave him his athletic body, and his height. He was over six feet tall. His hair was dark brown and he let it grow a little longer than he should have, but he didn't get out much. He often wondered what his father had seen in his mother, even if it seemed ungrateful. She had always been short, shriveled, and spiteful.

Meeting women had always been out of the question. He had always been shy, so he never dated in school, and after he left school and began working in the shop he never found time to himself. Mother always had needs, always wanted something. She couldn't be left alone. So she said, and he believed her. He was a good son. That's what she said, when she wasn't scolding him for a fault in him she had noticed. Sometimes he was too slow bringing her the medicines she needed. Often he was not prompt enough with her meals on the tray she used. When not reading her romance books she was watching old movies, and it was his duty to fetch new books or DVDs from the library for her. And if they didn't come up to her standards then he was told about it in her screechy voice. That voice he heard in his dreams.

He knew all about the human body from all his reading. He had learned that from his father when he first reached puberty. His father had told him about men and women making babies, and he had learned a lot more, but he had also learned how evil it was from his mother. People had to make babies, but they didn't have to do things to each other for any other reason, or it was a sin. It really didn't have anything to do with religion. He had no religion. But he had been taught it was a sin, and he believed it.

One day a young woman came into the shop. Her clothing was not modest at all. Harold tried not to look at her body. It was sinful to look at ladies' bodies. But she was a customer. They needed customers. This woman was obviously in her 20s and she seemed very happy. At least her smile was broad and her teeth were bright. She laughed as she skipped around the shop.

He couldn't help looking at her. She was everywhere. Her hair was black as night, or evil, and long and straight. She was not wearing a brassiere and her breasts bounced as she pranced around the shop in her black silk blouse. Once she leaned down and looked through the counter glass, and he saw her cleavage. He was ashamed, but he also looked at her tight, black leather pants. They were very short and showed her off because they were so tight. And her legs were long and shapely, and her feet were shod in ballet slippers, but she was only a few inches taller than five feet. She was dressed shamefully. He tried to look away. He didn't.

"Wow, you have everything in this shop. Stuff I haven't seen anywhere else. This is great. I think I can find all the things I need. Cool. Thanks for being here, dude."

Harold kept quiet. He was afraid to say anything. He might stutter or blush. He had never felt this way before. Finally, he realized he had to ask her what she actually needed. He couldn't expect her to find everything by herself. Besides, most of his products were behind the counter and he needed to climb up to reach some of them.

"Can I help you find what you want, miss?"

"Nope. I'm going to find what I want on my own, thanks."

And with that she began taking bottles and boxes down from the shelves. Soon she was behind the counter, climbing up his ladder, picking out selections, moving the ladder where she needed it, and just making herself at home. Harold was at a loss. This had never happened. But he was too shy to actually reprimand her or even say anything. He just stood back and blushed from his feelings rolling through his body. He looked at her body and felt ashamed again. It was a sin. But she looked so good.

Finally, she finished piling boxes and bottles on the counter. If they were large and if she only needed a portion she told him and he doled out what she needed into smaller containers. At last she told him that was all. He began putting everything into paper sacks he kept under the counter. When he was through he added up the total and wrote out a receipt.

"That comes to fifty-three dollars and thirty-five cents, please."

"Oh, that's okay. Just put it on my tab. I'm coming back again. I like this place. You're cute."

Blushing he said, "Oh no. I'm sorry. No, no. I can't run a tab. I don't do that here. No, no."

"It's cool, stud. I'm good for it. I have tabs all over town. Here, I'll show you I'm cool."

With that she skipped around the end of the counter and slowly approached him, rather like a snake inching towards its prey. Her smile was predatory, he thought. He felt a bead of sweat trickle from his brow down his cheek. His face was red and he didn't have a clue what to do. She reached him, put her hand on his cheek, rubbed it, and leaned upward to lick a drop of sweat from his cheek.

"We're good, right? Okay. I'll see you later my big man."

She moved quickly, like a cat, and rounded the counter again. Then she took the paper sacks and with a little wave of her tiny hand she left the store, setting the bell over the door to tinkling.

As the door closed the screeching began.

"Was that a customer?"

He went into her room and assured her it had been. He asked if she needed anything. He was rather stooped over though, hiding his erection. He hoped she didn't notice. She didn't. She seldom bothered to look at him. She kept her eyes on the movie running on her DVD player. She didn't want anything right now. He went back into the shop and had odd thoughts about the young lady. Maybe she wasn't a lady. Maybe she was naughty. Like him, sometimes.

Harold's mind played with him now for days as he waited and wondered if she would come back. She said she would. But could he trust her? Did she just steal all of that merchandise? He didn't know. He did know he wanted to see her again. Very much.

His wait was about two weeks. She came rattling in making the door sing its tune, and grinned when she saw him. He smiled back. He couldn't help himself. He should show more disapproval, for he couldn't help notice that this time she was all in black leather. Her top was a leather vest, barely covering her, and her pants were long and covered her whole lower body tightly, letting everyone see her shape. So he blushed, even while smiling.

"Hey big guy. I can't keep calling you dude or whatever. What's your name? I'm Lilith. You know Adam's first wife, who got kicked out of Eden for being a witch?"

And she laughed a little trilling laugh that caused a tingle in his lower spine.

"Harold. It's Harold. I own this shop with my mother. She lives here too. She's in the back. I wondered if you were coming back. People don't always. But my name is Harold. Did you want some more things? I wondered what you were making. It was odd the things you took. But I'm Harold."

He knew he was rambling but he couldn't stop. Something about her was compelling. She drew him in. He was feeling lost in her eyes, her black eyes shining as they stared into his.

"Okay, so...big Hal, I'm going to need more crap. I can find it. Just sit on your stool there Hal. It's all cool."

With that she again tripped about the shop picking this item and then that. Again she filled his counter, and again he packed it all up. This time he wrote the receipt and then put it under the counter. With the last one.

"But what are you making? I mean, I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. I just wondered. I mean, it's odd the things you took last time."

"You really want to know my man Hal? Really? Great. I love to showoff for good looking men. I now invite you to the party. Okay. This is an invitation. Meet me out front about eleven o'clock tonight. Got that? Don't be late."

"No, wait. That's impossible. Really. I can't leave my mother alone. It's impossible. I mean, she might wake up and need me. She might be ill. She might find out. I can't. No, no."

She seemed to move like lightning. She was on one side of the shop and then she was rubbing up against his side, wrapping a long leg around his. Her hands were on his chest and hair. He almost fainted. This was not right, not good. This was evil. He stood still and she took one of his hands. She moved with soft, soothing and caressing touches of her hands. "No" was not an option. "No" would not happen.

"Please, Lilith. Oh god, this is not right."

"Meet me outside at eleven. I'll be here. So will you. Right Hal?"

Again she gathered her sacks and was out the door before he could respond. The bell tinkled.

Harold swore that he would never meet her. How could he. His mother would know if he left. It was impossible and besides it was forbidden. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. They weren't married or even dating. He could see her if they were dating. If his mother approved. But she would never approve. He would not be out there tonight. He wouldn't. He could go down the fire escape. It had never been used. His window in his bedroom opened on the fire escape. He could go down it. But it was wrong. Lilith was evil. He knew that. His heart and mind knew she was evil. She was trying to make him do something bad.

The rest of the day was slow. Mother needed things. He fed her dinner and ate his own in the shop. A few customers came in. Not many. It passed slowly. After he closed for the night and said goodnight to his mother he went up to his room. He showered and put on fresh clothing. He sat on his bed and waited. At ten minutes before eleven he went to his window. He opened it and climbed out. He descended the fire escape. He was waiting at the front of the shop at eleven o'clock. He was there. He was there for Lilith. He didn't know when she appeared, but suddenly her hand was in his and she was leading him away.

She was prattling on about what she had done today, and what she had done this week, and what she was going to do tomorrow, and what music she liked, and what books she read, and how she was going to show him something he had never seen, and he was fascinated and fearful. He was afraid for the whole walk back to the brownstone where she must live. 

Tonight she was wearing a gossamer dress of black lace. He could smell her perfume. He could see her legs all the way up to her behind. It was a short dress. She smelled sinful and lustful and he waited to see what would happen. He knew it was evil. He was afraid. Then, as if reading his mind, she released his hand.

"My baby Hal. You're going to be happy tonight. You'll be happy. You will, or I might get upset. That would be bad, baby boy."

They had to climb four flights of stairs to her apartment. She opened the door and the smell wafted out of patchouli and something he thought might be illegal. The apartment was really just a front room with a kitchenette attached. The bedroom had a bathroom in it. He knew because he asked to use it. He had to wash his face with cold water. He was feeling faint. Lilith was giggling and skipping around her place gathering materials together on the kitchen counter.

"You wanted to know what I was making? You'll find out. Wait and I'll show you. Sit down big Hal. Sit on the couch. Take a load off big man. Here, let me take your jacket."

She touched him whenever he was close. If he wasn't close she approached him and touched him. Soft, teasing, soothing, gentle, compelling touches. She was laughing at him, but she still was pleasing to look at. She was so lovely. She made him feel so strange and good and bad, all at the same time. And he was fearful of what was to come.

She was mixing and stirring and adding this and that to her concoction. It took awhile and all the time she was talking and smiling and making him feel he was in the wrong place, but the compulsion stayed strong, to remain where he was. To remain and let her teach him.

"You need to take off your shirt and lay face down on the couch Hal. You're going to be the first to have this batch of my special potion. It's made especially for you. It's meant to soothe you; to make you feel very good. It won't hurt you. Do it big boy. Take off your shirt."

Harold did as he was told. He felt like he was just doing the natural thing. Nothing wrong would happen. This was just a lotion for him. Something to make him relax and feel better. Her words comforted him. This was just a massage really. Nothing more.

"This is my own recipe. I made it up. I sell it to anyone who needs it, but I'm always willing to demonstrate its effectiveness. You're getting a free sample. You need it. You're so tense, my prince Hal. So very tense. Your muscles are tight."

And then she laughed out loud. She poured lotion on his back and began rubbing it in softly at first and then more roughly, until she was making him groan, and her long fingernails were tracing trails upon his back muscles. He was so relaxed. His head was spinning. What was in that potion?

"Turn over my Hal. Turn over for Lilith. That's a good boy. You're ready for this. You know you are. Turn over."

And he did. He rolled over. She began rubbing his chest with the lotion. It was so warm and soothing that he fell asleep. He must have slept almost all night because the sun was coming through a window when he awoke. He quickly looked at his watch. It was late. Almost 7 o'clock in the morning. Mother would be awake soon. Maybe already. He had to get home. Lilith was sitting in a chair staring at him with a sardonic smile on her face.

"Damn you Lilith. What was in that lotion you rubbed on me? What was it? It had to be some kind of poison or drugs, or something evil."

"Oh, my, my Hal. It was baby oil, and a little hot pepper sauce."

She roared with laughter from her guts. She kept laughing and then cackled and then giggled, and looked at him in the eyes again.

"I have wanted to bring you in for years Hal. Don't you know me yet? I'm your sister. Father never told you about me? No matter. You'll be joining us now. Father started this coven long ago. He was the head. Now it is time for your initiation."

This was all too much for Harold. He wanted to run away. He tried to. But now they all came from the darkened corners and held him. He was brought to the center of the room. He expected to see a pentacle there on the floor. It was not there. But they did begin to light candles and vessels of incense. There must have been ten people there. With Lilith and him that made a dozen. He was forced to the floor and they began circling him chanting in a tongue he was unfamiliar with.

Now Lilith brought out the special potion she had made with all the powders and liquids and seeds and herbs she had gathered from his shop. She began using a brush made of willow branches to swish the potion over the heads of those gathered around. And it was changing everyone, including Harold. All began swaying as the power of the concoction excited and aroused their senses to the point that everything was enhanced. All noises were louder and filled with meaning, as were the smells and the sights around them.

Harold was feeling something he had never felt in years. Pleasure. As they began praising the Goddess he felt the urge to do so too. He arose and this time they did not hold him down. He began singing, and the song was one he had never heard, but it was familiar to him, none the less. The joy of life was overcoming his fears that he had learned from Mother. He was his Father's son now. He was becoming whole.

And the group was rejoicing as the son of their leader came into his own. It was a time to praise nature and the real world. The world Harold had seldom noticed or even gave any thought to. Now he was smelling the aromas coming from the censors and from the open windows, and he was becoming one with his companions. Especially his sister. His feelings for her had been warped but now were blossoming into a joy at the relationship. And joy that she had found him and brought him home.

He would return to his shop. And he would continue to sell his oddities, for there was a need of them. But Mother would no longer rule him. He was his Father's son now. He was the leader. He had passed into the new world.